The Christmas Cat Caper
by acaelousqueadcentrum
Summary: This fic was written for the 2014 Officer Lunchbox Secret Santa organized on Tumblr. I asked my Secret Santee, maryaun, to give me a number of words, Mad Libs style, and used them to write her a fic. [Verbs: ate, cursed, rolled; Non-RB name: Frodo; RB name: Gerald; Nouns: cat, family, gun, banana]


"Holly," Gail shouted as she hopped out of the bedroom on one foot, her foot stuck in the pantleg of her uniform trousers, "Holly!"

The brunette stuck her head out into the hallway from the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled, and shook her head at Gail's antics, watching as the blonde cursed and struggled to free herself.

"What, babe," she called back, her voice not hiding her amusement at all, "and hey, if you don't hurry up, you're going to be late."

Gail glowered at her girlfriend from the other end of the hall, almost tripping over her own feet as she finally managed to pull the pants up her legs and buckle her belt.

"I know that," the blonde police officer said with a scowl, but it's your stupid cat. He was hiding in the leg of my pants again, Holly." She stuck her tongue out at the fat orange tabby laying across the hallway.

The cat didn't seem to mind. He just looked back at her, bored, as he continued to lick at his paws.

"Well," the pathologist said from inside the kitchen, "if you didn't leave them in a pile on the floor each night, Gail, he wouldn't think they were for him."

Gail just stuck her tongue out at her girlfriend and huffed as she opened the door of the fridge and stared at everything inside.

The dark haired woman handed Gail a bowl of cereal and an unpeeled banana. "Here," Holly said, "you need to eat something before you run off to work. And 'my cat?' Babe, he's as much yours as he is mine. More, maybe."

"What," Gail exclaimed with a mouth full of cereal, "no way, Hol, that furball is your pet. He hates me. And the feeling is mutual."

But Holly just laughed.

"Honey, you're the one who brought him home," she pointed out as she pushed the banana closer and closer to her girlfriend's bowl. "If he's anyone's cat, he's yours."

Gail peeled her banana absent-mindedly and Holly smiled, watching with pleasure as her girlfriend ate a reasonable healthy breakfast. Slowly, slowly she was getting Gail to eat better. It worked the best when the blonde didn't even realize what was happening, like now.

"He likes you better," the police officer said, almost petulantly. "He sits in your lap and he doesn't scratch at you when you try to pick him up."

"True," Holly said, filling Gail's travel mug with steaming hot coffee, "but he doesn't do it so much any more. Only when you come up on him from behind. He doesn't like that."

Gail just "hmmmm'd" at the other woman.

Holly handed Gail the mug and a paper bag with the top rolled over. "Besides," she added, "who brought the cat home out of the blue one day, not even bothering to ask the woman she shares a bed with." The look on her face was a mix of amusement and frustration. All undergirded with love, deep and warm and consuming.

"Yeah, okay," Gail responded, "but who named him? Not me."

She hid her triumphant smirk behind the mug as she took a sip of the dark, bitter coffee.

"Gail, I named him because the only two names you suggested were 'Fatso' and 'Frodo.' Neither of those were appropriate names for a cat. 'Sylvester' was an infinitely better option."

"I also suggested 'Duncan,'" the cop said as she pulled on her boots, "but you said I couldn't name our fat, lazy, stupid cat after my stupid, lazy, gargantuan rookie. Something about it being offensive to Gerald. Which makes no sense at all, Hols, because why would Gerald be offended by our cat Duncan?"

"Mmmmhmmm," the brunette replied and rolled her eyes, "maybe because Gerald's name is actually Duncan and even though you know that, you refuse to call him anything other than 'Gerald,' 'Rookie,' or 'Hey You.'"

"Don't forget 'Stinky,'" Gail said as she hoisted her duty belt up and over her hips, "after that time we thought some purse snatcher might have tossed evidence into a dumpster and we made him climb and search through a whole block's worth of them."

Holly just smiled. She did remember that. It was still one of the Fifteen's favorite stories to tell around a round of drinks at The Penny.

"And, Officer Peck," she said as she settled her hands over her girlfriend's hips, feeling the cold, hard metal of Gail's duty gun against her arm, "who insisted that the cat be included in the family picture on our Christmas cards this year. The very first time you've ever sent out Christmas cards. Or willingly sat down for a Christmas picture. In matching sweaters, Gail. You put the cat in a red Christmas tree sweater."

"Yeah," the blonde said, "Sylvester was pissed about that."

Holly laughed. He had been.

"Hey, babe," Gail whispered, pulling Holly close, "I've got to go, but I should be home on time, okay? You and the cat just hang tight on your day off."

"Will do," the doctor said, smiling, "and you, Officer Peck, you stay safe on those streets today. I hear the annual Cops and Cats Christmas Charity Drive at the animal shelter can be pretty intense."

The blonde stuck out her tongue before kissing her girlfriend, letting her tongue tease at the older woman's lips.

"Just don't bring home a cat this time, okay, Gail" Holly asked, her eyes twinkling, "I have two cranky cats in my life already. I don't know if I'm ready for a third."


End file.
